No Real Reason
by sldlovestv18
Summary: A young Milo has a rough day at school and his father comfort him. It's better then it sounds, promise. R&R, or something


It was strangely quiet in the Murphy home when Martin got home from work. Nothing was on fire, the door was intact, no windows were broken. Was there something wrong? He could hear faint whispering from the living room from outside the front door. He didn't have a good feeling.

"Hey, it's awful quiet in here, is something wrong?" Martin asked as soon as he opened the door, but he immediately got his answer when looked over to the couch and saw Bridgette and Sara by a quivering ball of blankets that he could only assume was his son, whispering comforting words only to be meet with sniffles and whines. "What happened?"

"I don't know, when I picked him and Sara up from school he just started crying." Mrs. Murphy sighed, rubbing the top of the lump of blankets, right around where Milo back was. "We think something happened at school."

"He was really quiet while we were waiting for Mom to show up, he won't talk to us." Sara said, looking really worried for her brother. Milo was had just started Kindergarten a few months ago and was having a tough time. Some of the other kids picked on him, and he had even managed to attract the ire of some older boys when murphy's law struck during lunch time and Milo accidently covered them in yogurt. The school had talked to the boy's parents, but that had only seemed to make the boys angrier, he was tattle tale now.

"Awwwhhh, buddy." Martin murmured as he walked up to the couch, before looking and his wife and child. "Can I have minute alone with him?"

"Sure, come on, Sara, let's get started on dinner, huh?" Bridgette took Sara's hand and lead her away.

"But I wanna see what happens." Sara whined, peaking around the corner as she was pulled into the other room.

"Milo? Buddy, are you okay?" Martin asked, take a seat next to his wrapped-up son. After all he got in response was a sniffle, he reached over to try and remove the blanket enwrapping his son, only for Milo pull back fervently with a whine. "Milo."

He pulled again, no luck. So he reached over and picked up the lump of blankets, Milo and all, and the response was immediate. Milo started to cry out and flail out his limps in protest, wiggling around like tiny, little worm.

"Milo, Milo sto- OUF!" Martin grunted, his ribs having caught one his child's furious fists. "Milo, stop, right now!" He scolded, pulling his sons squirming form closer until he calmed down a little. The blanket was pulled away from his little face, revealing tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes. Milo tried to cover his face with his hands, but he was stopped. "Hey, pal, what's wrong? Kids picked on you today?"

"Yeah." Milo nodded his little head. "I don't get it, it's not my fault those geese attacked the teacher, or that that shelf fell… or that that wall collapsed." Milo looked mildly embarrassed now on top of the sadness.

"Rough day with murphy's law, huh?" Martin ruffled his hair in some sort of attempt to make him feel better. "Is that all, you don't normally take it this hard. Did something else happen?"

"Yes…" Milo was refusing to look him in the eye.

"You want to tell me what?"

"I'll show you." Milo mumbled, shaking off the blanket and lifting up his shirt, revealing the messy scrawl of a child spelling out the word 'Jinx' in giant letters. "It was the older boys. They said if I told the teachers they'd beat me up, and that the next time they'd write it on my forehead."

"Oh, Milo…" Martin mumbled, covering his mouth, before his sadness quickly turned to anger. "I ought to call those boys parents and-"

"Daddy, no! That'll only make them more mad!" Milo shook his head rapidly, he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't make the poor boy dizzy.

"Milo…"

"Daddy, please." He looked up at his father with pleading eyes and Martin gave a nod. "Thank you…"

"I'm sorry this happened, pal." Martin sighed, giving him a squeeze. Milo nuzzled his face into his side, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

"Why does this happen to us? It's not fair, I didn't do anything wrong." Milo's eyes started to water again and Martin started to hold him closer.

"Well, you have EHML, just like I do." Martin explained rubbing his little boy back.

"What's that?" He looked up to his father with ridiculously sad eyes.

"Extreme Hereditary Murphy's Law, it's a genetic condition, it's passed down from father to son through our genes."

"What does genies have to do with murphy's law?" Milo seemed genuinely curious, at least he had stopped crying.

"Genes, son. It… well, it just means that all the men in our family are effected by murphy's law, because of our genes." Martin didn't really want to explain to Milo the part where he and a bunch of his cousins went and got their genes mapped and discovered three markers on the Y chromosome that were found across the board that indicated a genetic condition shared between them. Maybe when he was older.

"But why?"

"Well, uh… we don't know. We know that people with EHML get in the crosshairs of murphy's law the more than other people, but we don't know why, precisely. We just know it happens." Martin shrugged his shoulders. "The science isn't here yet to tell us that, but studies are being done."

"Oh…" Milo looked back down.

"Look, buddy, you can't let this get you down. Murphy's law is going to follow you for the rest of your life, and you shouldn't let bullies get to you either. They just don't understand how special you are, and believe me, things will get better once the other kids realize you can't help it, though they will probably always keep their distance." Martin sighed. "You'll get used to it eventually, pal, just hang in there. Though I really think you should at least talk to your teacher about what's going on."

"Okay." Milo nodded gently.

"Okay, now how about a smile, huh?" Martin grinned at his son, and Milo gave him a tiny smile back. "No, not big enough… maybe if I tickle you!"

"No!" Milo giggled as his dad started to tickle at his sides. "Stop- hehehehe! Stop! HA! Daddy!"

The words were washed off that night in the bath and the event was forgotten.


End file.
